


Ritualistic

by wormhourdeluxe



Category: One Piece
Genre: Altar Sex, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Body Worship, Bondage, Creampie, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fear, Forced Bonding, Forced Orgasm, Human Sacrifice, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Light Sadism, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Non-Graphic Violence, Rape/Non-con Elements, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Temporary Character Death, Very Loosely Saying Both Monsters And Religion, deity marco, not a REAL religion mind you, sort of. ive lost touch of what counts as "graphic"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:34:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22144933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wormhourdeluxe/pseuds/wormhourdeluxe
Summary: The final straw, for Deuce's parents, was when they caught Ace sneaking into Deuce's room to spend time with him.They decide that if they can't fix their son, they'd leave it up to their local god.
Relationships: Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco/Masked Deuce, Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco/Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace, Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco/Portgas D. Ace, Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace
Comments: 13
Kudos: 62





	Ritualistic

**Author's Note:**

> so uh... this was written near entirely at 6am last night. because The Echo Chamber chat turned to deuce/ace/marco and deity!Marco popped up. and now here this is. 
> 
> Special Thanks As Always To [ Chromi ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chromi/pseuds/Chromi), [Irrelevancy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irrelevancy/pseuds/Irrelevancy) and by extension the Gay Baby Jail/The Echo Chamber Chat for Indulging Me Flying Off The Handle (Some of the dialogue used is from them, check the end notes)

It had taken less than an hour, since Deuce’s parents had caught them. 

Less than an hour, when they saw Ace in his room and dragged them both down to the little shrine at the mountain peak. Less than an hour, since they tied them both down to the altar and left them to die. 

Deuce wished they could have just starved to death. 

“It will hurt,” Marco murmured. Deuce had no idea how he knew the deity’s name, but it came easily– fizzling to being on the tip of his tongue. Raw and unignorable. It was not a mercy, allowing him not to make a fool of himself– this was an order, booming behind his eyes. The touches burned so sweetly, so sick, so chilled when it brushed a thin trail of blue up Deuce’s shivering skin. “...But only for a moment.” So, so sweetly. Like liquid ash and melted chocolate. Like syrupy honey, bubbling hot where it dripped off that freezing flesh.

How could absolution feel so  _ cold? _

Beside him, Ace breathed out thinly. Wheezing, almost, the air in him cold and solid above their shared altar space. His hand in Deuce’s, ever so warm, seemed more like hardening magma. “This isn’t–” Trembling. Always so steady, so brash and beautiful, his partner. Always knowing what to do. As stark as the freckles on his cheeks, down his bared shoulders, the sharp juts of bared hip bones– “Gods aren't supposed to be––”

_ “Portgas D. Ace,” _ The old god crooned. His touch was always so  _ soft. _ Like a thousand feathers, tickling Ace’s cheek. Running down rippling abs and a thundering heartbeat to betray every whispered misgiving;  _ “Do you believe in me now?” _

_ So, so cold.  _

(Every touch freezing. Was it supposed to be so unforgiving in its softness?)

"How real am I to you,  _ Portgas D. Ace, _ when I am here in the flesh, spreading you open for  _ my _ feasting eyes alone..." 

(It was a falsity. it was a fake. It  _ couldn't _ be real, all of those sparkling white teeth and glowing gold and blue–)

Marco smiled down at them, and Deuce wondered how any of them had ever mistaken him for a god to be worshipped. "I am going to absolve you. Aren't you  _ excited?" _

_ Anew, _ Deuce’s body whispered, every sinew and tendon ached and shrieked,  _ Anew, Anew, Anew– _

Careful hands slipping past lines and clothes and layers. The thin scratch of claw tips, just barely skimming over Deuce’s skin. A thin mask of the danger underneath, on the edge of the cliffs. Marco’s eyes never left his. "It's all a part of the ritual. I can't stop it from hurting, unfortunately." Where were his clothes? Deuce gulped, unsure when he had stopped struggling. The aches and pains of the ropes fastened so tightly his hands and ankles bled white, had vanished to cool, almost refreshing numbness.

He wasn't fooled. He still couldn't move. Ace's breathing was shallow and fast, his hand stonily still and clammy against his. "I–" How was his mouth so -dry?- "I can’t– I am to be sacrificed."

_ I am offered to you. A gift that cannot love you, and I am sorry, and I am terrified, because you are beautiful and deadly but I am– _

Marco looked, for an odd moment, like he might weep despite the amused pinch to his searing bright eyes. "Oh, sweet thing," The tiny, soft little pinpricks of feathers was at once unbearable, cupping Deuce's immobile face. "I know you do not love me." Those freezing palms cradled his cheeks like he was something so easily breakable.

(And he was. And they were.)

Ace's breath hitched. Deuce wished he could just turn to check on him. Had wanted that since he had fallen silent, all those too-many seconds ago, minutes, hours– "I am– not  _ right," _ He blurted out haltingly. The words came free and forced all at once, whipped out of him like air following the lingering motion of a lash, of a blow. "I am– a bad gift, I can’t be–"  _ Pure, perfect, beautiful– _ His virginity, pocketed by the man laying breathless and choked beside him. His affections, swallowed. His love, his touch, his joy and resolve and hope– What was left of him, this empty box and dull wrapping, this dusty ribbon and bow– "–I-I'm sorry."

He would regret it, wouldn’t he? Like he regretted not leaving, when Ace begged him to _just_ _jump_ nights before. Maybe it would have been the better option, to shatter in the fall, if not to escape; better than to be pinned there now like a butterfly in its case.

Ace made a quiet, fluttering sound when Marco's visage  _ shifted. _ Glowing blue talons, built as if materialized in their entirety, as flame and starlight, curled so artificially delicate around the marble edges of the altar. Feathers, on either side of them. Blocking out everything but the way the white stone of the altar reflected back Marco's radiance. Draping them within a beautiful cage of azure primaries and soft, deceivingly wispy down. "You have been left to  _ me,"  _ He hissed, and maybe it was his stature, maybe his status, maybe Deuce's blinding, all-consuming  _ awe _ even in fear– that his words still managed to sound like singing.  _ "Gifted, _ to  _ me. _ Given because you were deemed dirty. As if I am a wash to cycle your sins through and come out purified and clean."

Marco leaned down, and down, and down, and Deuce had no idea how he had towered so high even with them both laid flat to the altar. Brilliant eyes filled the entirety of his vision. Filled everything, as if every unnecessary exhale Marco gave pushed its way into Deuce and expanded with the impending weight of a supernova in his lungs. 

"...Do I look kind?" He asked. It could almost be played off like genuine curiosity.

It so quickly turned to rage. Deuce wondered if he should have been gasping. Claw tips dug, no longer deceptive, into the soft flesh of Deuce's hips.

Gold bled straight down those stark veins and into his skin and Deuce heard himself moan loudly as heat seemed to flush through his body. Immediately, horrified embarrassment froze his throat– Ace was– was  _ right next to him, _ lying beside him on the cold marble, and yet he could feel himself getting  _ hard _ under this–

"All of those false prophets, traipsing in my home," Marco was snarling now, his words breathed out with tiny plumes of cool blue fire. If Deuce stared without blinking long enough, he could almost swear the gold in Marco’s eyes were bleeding out of them– pooling into faulty tear ducts to splinter down his sharpened cheekbones like little glowing feathers. "They were  _ filthy, _ you know. I am not so forgiving, to accept every rat squeaking at my feet. Not every child crying, not every human begging. What kind of  _ God _ do they think I am, I wonder?" The slightest of pressure, just into the divots above Deuce's eyes. As if the tiniest little push could dip Marco's fingers directly past them and into his skull. Everything so easily in reach. 

Everything. Cool blue fingers– feathers–? Trailed up the suddenly freed length of Deuce's dick. Up shaking thighs, abruptly bared and skin flushed pink, quivering muscles under his skin. Marco's face looked so remarkably soft Deuce could cry. As if his molten eyes could drip right out of their sockets and pool into his own.

Gold trickled its way down that tickling touch, gently pressing his lax legs back to his chest by delicate hands underlaid his knees, and Deuce gasped his body seemed to shudder out of its rigidity. As if all the paranoia and fear stretching him taut was forcingly melted away under those feathered golds and blazing blues–

"Oh," Deuce croaked, eyes wide and unmoving from Marco's face as he felt a nudge up against him, between his legs, "Oh, I–  _ Oh." _

"I will take you gently," Marco sang. His voice swayed like a breeze, like air at the peak of a mountain. Dizzying and thin, suffocatingly delicate. Deuce could feel himself being pushed smaller with every little inch that the god– a god, a  _ deity, _ he was being  _ fucked _ by a– "You deserve so much  _ better _ than they decided you would get by offering you to me, here, _ and I will give it to you–" _ Deuce made a shrill sound when those chilled hips pressed firmly against his. His inner thighs felt numb with cold. Cold everywhere, Cold and limp and open for the taking.

A feast. An offering, a _gift–_ _Where was Ace?_ Deuce couldn't feel his hand anymore. Goose pimples sprouted all over every bit of exposed flesh– the altar almost felt warm in its solid support.

Throbbing and warm inside of him. The warmest part of this creature, besides the liquid warmth of those eyes. "I will take you gently," He promised again, and when he slid out Deuce felt his breath be dragged out of him like hooks through his insides– "You deserve so much better than what they gave you in my name."

"W-Will it hurt," Deuce finally found the strength to ask. It took everything he had– took enough to voice out of the cry that shuddered out of him with the slow grind of Marco's cock inside him– Took even the tears, he hadn't felt rolling down his freezing cheeks– "Please,  _ p-please, don’t..." _

He couldn't, he couldn't, _he couldn't._ He wasn't Ace, wasn't warm and steady and he– he wasn't Ace, he _wanted_ _Ace–_

"I will take you gently," Marco repeated, and Deuce wanted to  _ scream,  _ to thrash and cry and weep because he couldn't seem to feel as dirty as he wished he was. The hands on his body were so delicate and fluttering, not at all calloused or burning hot or familiar– "And  _ then _ it will hurt. A sacrifice isn't without pain– I wish I could be sorry, but I  _ will _ hurt you, and I will make you glad for it."

Deuce  _ sobbed. _ He sobbed all through the sparking pleasure that whittled away at the numbness spreading from the base of his spine. He sobbed as Marco did as he promised and so, so carefully fucked him, dragged that fluttering touch up and down the length of Deuce's weeping cock with all the care and affection of a lover. He sobbed as Marco made his hips buck and legs shake, he sobbed when his toes curled at a strong thrust to his prostate, he sobbed as Marco leaned down to drink his tears as if there was nothing sweeter all the while fucking him deeper.

He was flayed open, bleeding out his pleasure with a quiet, pained moan into the marble, and came trembling and weak into his God's hands.

Deuce was still gasping, eyes finally squeezing shut, when Marco's face split into a glowing grin with all the violence of a collapsing star.

_ "Good job," _ He praised, voice full of pride, and Deuce jerked with a loud cry as talons suddenly swung up,  _ hooking _ into the flesh just below his heaving diaphragm. 

"No," He begged, "No,  _ No–" _ A slick drag, a single, clean motion, and Deuce let out a garbled shriek of pain.  _ "No–" It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.  _

_ "My gift,"  _ Marco crooned happily, feathers raised and trembling in delight, "My beautiful offering.... Give me all that you are… Every bit to give, to grant, the feelings and the filth, the seed and the sins, all of your blood and bones;  _ spill them to me..." _ Deuce writhed, spell finally broken, only to be ignored. There was nothing left for him to do– no amount of pleasure to blur the sheer agony wracking the ruins of his material body. "I have been patient, I have been gentle, now  _ feed _ me,  _ feed your god..." _

Deuce tilted his head back, jaw cracking open in a soundless scream– and let out a last, choked moan of pain as Marco took him. Teeth buried themselves into Deuce's lower lip. A tongue snaked into his open mouth, dragging something silky and smooth across the roof of his mouth. The only bit of warmth and water he had and he swallowed it greedily, abruptly so parched he couldn’t think.

Glowing gold, the light of it bleeding even through his throat, trailed down into ruined flesh.

Marco came inside of him. Fed him molten metal and sat back on his heels to eye his next prize as his first twitched and was born, quietly, anew.

Ace looked at him like he was something disgusting.

Maybe he was. Maybe what Marco was supposed to be had become so disassociated from what he  _ was _ that he was unrecognizable now. Something monstrous. An unknown, unimaginable force, that had just taken Ace's lover apart right in front of him. The last bits of him were still twitching, breathing shallow and slow with every passing moment.

Ace knew he would be next. Marco wasn't rude, after all.

He trailed the tips of his nails down the curve of that prominent Adam's apple and Ace spasmed. Marco watched him gasp. The seal, on his vocal cords, always felt like it was pressing down onto a human's windpipe. But Marco knew he was fine, if a little dramatic.

"You killed him," He whispered, tremulous and horrified, "You  _ killed _ him."

That made no sense. Of course Marco had not killed him– what would be the point of that? He had disconnected him, of course, his material form wouldn't be able to follow where Marco wanted it to. But there was no real point bothering to explain that to someone as obstinate as Ace, was there. No, he knew better– he knew everything. He was in charge, in control, and Marco was  _ perfectly _ aware of how deep his claws could sink.

He leaned down, wrapping his fingers around the bare skin of Ace's muscled thighs, and wrenched them open. "You won't be without him," He promised. "You're coming too." In all ways. Marco needed every bit of fluid in him, to drown their first lives in. Without a font, they would have to make do. Marco wasn't limited in the ways a Christian God might be– and maybe that meant the people here, that prayed to him, were not truly as ignorant as he thought, to not make him a font. What was the use of holy water? It would be of no more use than a glorified birdbath.

Useless, useless thoughts, wasted on the meal spread on his altar.

_ "Beautiful," _ Marco praised. He kept his touch gentle, even as Ace attempted to struggle away from his hands. It would not work, of course, but he supposed to the human it was the thought that counted. He could allow small comforts. "So beautiful. You think you're filthy too, don't you?"

He didn't have to ask. Marco had been watching over this particular one since he had turned 17 and crashed into his territory with all the grace of a wildfire. The boy with freckles, who was filled with so much liquid sadness and anger it was like watching a full glass of water teetering on the edge of a table.

The human who hated himself, over old blood. It was a petty endeavor, in Marco's eyes– blood only had  _ one _ true use, after all.

His claws just barely pierced the delicate skin of Ace's hips. Blood trickled in tiny streams down his fingertips, over the curve of Ace's hips and dripping down onto the stained surface of his altar.

Delicious. 

Marco hummed in delight. Ace's muscles jumped under his lips where he laved his tongue over those little marks, lapping up the blood in a single stroke of slick pink. "I'll  _ never _ leave you," He promised. "I’ll take you, both of you– you'll be so  _ happy. _ You'll never be in pain again."

Ace wiggled in place, jerking at the ropes. Marco let the gold still on his tongue mix into the blood, draining below Ace’s skin until his movements became sluggish. Even as his cock rapidly filled, influenced by the aphrodisiac Marco was steadily feeding into him, his expression was pinched. "I'm–" Marco dragged him closer, yanking him up by his grip on those hips and forcing Ace's body into an unnatural bend that made his face further twist in equal discomfort and fear. "–I'm in pain right  _ now." _

It was a sassy little quip, one that would normally annoy Marco, but the fear and pain was clear through those strained words enough to make him soften. Just the tiniest, tiniest bit. 

"Not for long. Didn't I tell you? Just a moment, and I'll reawaken you properly..." Oh, but he really did taste divine. That blood, singing in his veins, really was so rare– it wouldn't be wrong of him, to take in the meal he was offered. That was the whole reason that the humans claiming themselves as Deuce's kin had left them there, tied and terrified. It wasn't as if Marco was something  _ merciful. _

(But oh, for the first time in a long time, he wanted to be. Just a little. As if something in him recognized these two fledglings in his nest. Their flight feathers had been clipped, and their plumage pulled, but that was okay. Marco could fix. Marco could  _ heal. _ He was a deity of healing, after all, despite his disposition.)

He sank deep within Ace, singing high in his throat all the while, and Ace arched as best he could with a scream.

"No," Marco could barely hear him whimper. "I-I don't want to– I don't want to feel  _ good," _ and Marco couldn't help the delighted little laugh that shook out of him. Nor could he help the giddy push of his hips, nor the unadulterated amusement of watching Ace's eyes widen in something bordering panicked pleasure at the sight of his own erection.

_ "That is all I want," _ Marco crooned. Feather-light, wrapping around that human cock– so pitifully small that he could wrap it entirely with one hand. "You would, even now,  _ deny _ me?"  _ Oh, _ there it was, that little bundle of nerves– What a perfect little addition, to have been added to their material bodies. Marco would have to keep that in the design, when he remade them both properly– "You saw. You  _ watched. _ You've had your lesson, it's time to perform."

_ You know what you have to do. _

It was not usually meant to be pleasurable. Marco was not a  _ gentle _ patron. He took the war-torn and the wretched. He took in voided cores and Hollowed rib cages. How to take someone so whole, with eyes still so full of life and light–  _ "Come for me," _ He ordered, and folded Ace nearly in half in his effort to lean down and run a gilded gold tongue up the length of that pretty little cock.

Filled, and filled, and  _ filled– _ Marco didn't even have to kiss him. The gold stroked from his belly up, tearing through his chest and up his throat to spill out the gaps between clenched teeth. Cum stained the altar, splattering partly across Ace's cheek. Silver eyes rolled back.

_ "Yes," _ Marco praised, petting his hair as he convulsed through his orgasm,  _ "Good boy."  _ He leaned up again, settled his talons in a smooth, familiar motion. "Now stay still. I'll be quick."

They would be so pretty, with him. His two little songbirds, always singing at his shoulders.

Marco couldn't wait to be kind.

**Author's Note:**

> Bits and Pieces From The Echo Chamber That Inspired This:
> 
> "Do you think love is such a delicate and tremulous thing," Marco hissed, and Deuce shivered as feathers printed themselves burning up from Marco's touch onto his skin, onto his tainted, disgusting flesh– "To think youre perceptions could ever stop me?"
> 
> oh Deuce is like, "but I'm—" and he wants to say tainted because he's not a virgin and he's heard gods are real into that virginity thing, but fuck if he's going to call what he and Ace had a taint. So he just grits his teeth tears in his eyes and, "but I love another man."
> 
> "You have been left to me, gifted to me, because you were deemed dirty. but their touches on you are the only filth left and i will cleanse you of them"
> 
> "false prophets, walking into my home. i will treat you gently."
> 
> "It will hurt, but only for a moment"  
> "i will absolve you."  
> systematically rips them apart, fills them anew ;)  
> rebirth in its finest form!!! dick
> 
> "because it's not sacrifice without pain right? it's built into the definition. I'm sorry yoi, I really am. I'm sorry that I'm not sorry."
> 
> deuce gets sacrificed by his shit parents. gets tied down at the altar  
> marco gently takes him, tells him he deserves better  
> fucks the life out of him
> 
> ☠️✌️ .. well! asndbjhfd see yall later . lmk if u got ideas and i might ;) do them ;) Abruptly and with No Warning ;)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Gift Willingly Given](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29178552) by [SalaciousMind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalaciousMind/pseuds/SalaciousMind)




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